


things i wanted to say but never did (things i said and maybe i shouldn't have)

by noisepolution



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Diary/Journal, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noisepolution/pseuds/noisepolution
Summary: "I’m no longer searching for a saviour. I don’t expect saving. I can’t reach out and i can’t...That shirt is cool. And that’s... a really cool hair."





	things i wanted to say but never did (things i said and maybe i shouldn't have)

**Author's Note:**

> any kind of typo (like not mayus and mayus and inconsistencies) are completely on purpouse; its all about being in someone's mind and how writing can demonstrate a state of mind

So i don’t think this is going to work. I’m just doing this because of my writing. I kinda have an excuse to be writing... i don’t know why i need a justification anyways. And also because my therapist said i should do this. Two or three times a day. Like an ongoing diary in the moment i’m thinking i’m feeling. 

I should start there. I think that i feel; i’m having trouble feeling. My meds give me space to think what i feel. When i just feel it becomes to much. Way too much. Suddenly, my heart beats rapidly quicker and my lungs feel like they’re going to explode and my head just keeps screaming the same things three times. Three times the same words, numbers; sometimes way more.

I hate school. I hate doing this at school... in my bed i can’t think. In my house i can’t move but i do it all the time. I can’t concentrate in anything in particular. I can’t move. I can’t sleep. I force myself to do everything. 

I don’t know where the limit between forcing myself and bleeding is. I think i should stop here.

———————————————

I’m no longer searching for a saviour. I don’t expect saving. I can’t reach out and i can’t...  
That shirt is cool. And that’s... a really cool hair.  
He seems... uhm, he saw me staring. I was staring. I didn’t realize i was staring. I’m so- I am so sorry. 

I’m going back to what i was talking about. I have no clue what that was. “Glowing eyes invisible eyes everywhere around me”; that’s something i wrote last night. I know no one is looking but i feel observed constantly.

He is staring now. He’s sitting across the classroom. From a certain angle we can see each other’s faces and no other face. They’re just faces. His face is not just a face. I feel... i think something else. He watches me while i’m typing this (i feel his eyes), but then his gaze gets lost. And he is back at watching. Now i see him and his eyes shift away.   
He’s smiling. 

I found out later i was too.

—————————————————

The teachers ask around how it’s going. It’s not going. Things don’t move. I keep saying i can’t keep pretending and i keep hearing myself saying i’m fine, it’s okay, please don’t worry. There’s nothing to say, nothing to do. No one can do anything and i can’t move.

Maybe there’s everything to say. In just the precise order, in the exact pattern of perception your mind forms: when you feel me feeling, you may enter my mind. You may try. And i’m talking to no one, saying goodbye to an empty class. Hearing every little sound the school makes. Counting every step that will lead me to another space full of people i don’t care about and do not care about me back, and they would cry if i’m gone. Oh, if they would cry. 

But then my eyes meet him again sitting in this other random room, just right next to the seat i’m used to sit on. Right next to the wall on the left, to the wall on the front. No one bothers me there and i don’t have to see any faces. Now he seems to be trying to bother me. I think i’m gonna let him.

I’ll have to sit a little weird so he doesn’t watch me writing. Yes I am ashamed. No this is not a state. We are no more than states after states and dynamics and superfluous personalities being bombarded by everlasting stimulus. So i Am this state. I’m not what i was neither what i could be. Sense of time has disappeared in my mind.   
Okay, he talked to me. He has a cute voice, I can feel a lot in his throat. His name is Josh. 

His name is Josh. 

—————————————————

I’m entering the classroom to see Josh sitting exactly behind i would seat. He pays attention. I think he may understand the dynamics.   
Last night i found myself wondering if he would understand why i feel so dark blue. And that the sun rays pretend to turn the potential in every existing creature into green; a green so light it would melt. A blue so dark it’s limitless. The purple around my brain that makes it so much easier to clean up, beat down and spit around. 

I caught myself thinking that i will find out if i’m right. I got ashamed, and then I took another pill and finished my cigarette and went to sleep. I don’t understand why I am so sad. And how it is possible that i can’t connect with my body and my actions and demonstrate exactly what i want to. Demonstrate feels like undoing the monster. How is it possible that people are so complicated. How can I understand them so precisely and have such a hard time existing in between them. And then I remembered Josh’s voice. And that thing I felt in his throat; i thought of sunflowers. Then I just fell asleep. 

—————————————-

I just woke up from an extremely vivid bad dream. It lasted hours, of suffering and being trapped in a loop, kinda knowing it’s happening and kinda going along with it. Somewhere along the road I thought that it might be a dream and that i should try doing something different this time in this loop. It was extremely violent and i relived it over and over again. So much blood and weapons and it was just terrible. I woke up genuinely scared. I haven’t felt a pure sensation like this in a long time.

My heart was racing so I stood up from class and came to the bathroom. i’m sitting on the toilet. I really like being in small places like this. I need to breathe.   
So Josh just walked in and called my name. He asked if i would like him to keep me company or to leave.   
I can’t swallow. I don’t like being in the classroom i don’t like that much space around me.  
I need to be home. I want to go home but i can’t until later in the evening. I have social events to be at. i don’t want that. i want to die. 

He somehow noticed. I know he knew without saying anything. He just knew. And he acted perfectly. He didn't ask me anything; he just brought me a glass of water. He left it under the door of the cubicle. He showed his presence. Maybe i'm overanalyzing this because it is not the first time someone comes and says that they are right outside for me, but he felt different. The flavour is respect. 

When I finally left the cubicle, he was sitting in between two of the sinks. There are five in the bathroom. His back was leaning on the glass. When I came out he incorporated a little bit. I looked at him in the eyes and i noticed something. I keep sensing stuff in this guy but i just can’t name it. He makes my categories flush down the toilet of my mind and force me to keep looking. Maybe it is on purpose. Maybe it's unconscious. It was time to talk to him.

I'm writing this on the bus back home. He asked me if it was something specific or concrete. An event or a fixed thought. I said no. Then he affirmed the word “anxiety”. I said yes. I said that i feel it weird to call it anxiety because it’s not that i experience a sudden attack... It doesn’t express itself physically. Not when i'm with people. He said that the fact that i feel the urge to be in a reduced space is enough to be something, that he wasn’t a doctor but he was pretty sure it is anxiety.   
I thanked him. I noticed that I was still holding his gaze and it was the first time I’ve done this much eye contact in a minimum of three months.

So Josh said that we should skip the next classes and go somewhere. 

———————-

i’m crawled up in my bed. i haven’t been going at school; it has been a week now. tomorrow i’ll have to go. i can’t breathe. i didn’t have to wonder if josh misses me because he texted me pretty much every day. some days he was having his own bad days. i did my best to help him but some nights were just too much to me to talk to him.   
i can’t stop thinking. my therapist said that if i needed a diagnosis, she would said that i have obsessive neurosis. my psychiatrist thinks it’s narcissist neurosis. i think i’m fading away.

my memories fall away. everything washes and it leaves a really soft fade. i’m slowly turning into blank. and it's paradoxical because my mind is completely dark. i am a white silhouette sitting inside. i watch all my colors in a crystal box just dancing. sometimes red escapes and everything is extremely irritating. when violet makes its way through the crack of the crystal box it paints a hole in the black space and it slowly gets bigger. then i fall. when i’m falling i see the box but it’s empty. then it’s all black again and the colors are locked away. i can’t feel my legs, everything is just a tremble. i have to see the crystal box and every color that makes me feel locked up. because they paint everything so much it escapes through my eyes. and i just can’t live like that. my meds make the crystal so much thicker. i don’t wanna love like this. i wanted to type live.

a message from josh appeared on the top of my screen. he asks me if i’m at my dad’s. i said that i am, but i don’t know if i would like to move. i don’t know if i can. he told me he’s around, her mother lives nearby. i breathe 3 times before i tell him i’m having a panic attack. before i tell him that i realized my world has fallen and i don’t know where i’m standing,  
he said he’s outside.

———————-

i’d like to remember this night. he took me to the patio behind my house. he didn’t mind that i was constantly pulling at my rubberband. i know he noticed. he tells me a lot of things just looking right at me. he’s the only person that has ever looked me in the eyes.   
i correct myself. he is the only one my eyes like to meet. 

the halo of the moon was violet.  
he asked if he can hold my hand. we were walking because somehow he noticed i didn’t want to sit. we almost didn’t talk for the entire time. cars drove by and people with dogs looked like they were coming my way but they were just looking for someone to play. josh played with pretty much every dog that appeared. he made me touch them. it felt amazingly comfortable. i grabbed his hand again. and then we sat on one of the benches. we call the patio square. its name fits perfectly and i can’t tell exactly in which part of the square we were because it’s all about perspective. it’s all about subjectivity. we talked about that.   
he asked me if there was something i’d like to talk about; he asked me what was in my mind. he said in my mind. i replied that he didn’t want to know. and then he talked in a slightly angry voice but just playful, and soft; he said that was something for him to decide. i wanted to talk so badly but the sentences that were so perfectly built in the front of my head wouldn’t leave their slot. i just wanted to talk and i couldn’t. i told him that.

he asked me what color was i thinking in that exact moment. i looked him in the eyes and i couldn’t breathe for a second. how would he know. how. he grabbed my hand and i said yellow. i started saying that it was yellow because it was electric and intimidating a little bit and had a lot of energies i couldn’t categorize. but it also was warm and full of light. he seemed to like a lot that description. he understood everything. 

“i think mostly in blue. everything is cold and static; and i feel control over it. but there were times in my life i felt red and it was amazing to feel a color and not to think on it. red spots around me. i liked those moments a lot. and recently i had one appearing suddenly in my mind. it moves fast and determined but it’s not secure or decided. it moves fast but doesn’t know where it’s going. i’m going after him because i miss feeling red. and this red is extremely particular because it’s more a dark and deeper red.”

he said him. he made me smile. i said i wanted to keep listening to him because his voice were feathers to my ears. i immediately regretted saying that out loud. he asked if he could hug me. i said that i didn’t feel a hug in years. and then i hugged him. and it felt red. and blue. at the same time.

——————

i have this spectacular mind where everything is something else. i never know where i should go and my fears starts to multiply, the pressure soaks my mind.  
i move slow. i wanna stop time, find the problem. 

——————

now we’re on the train. i’m going with him to run some errands he has to; it has something to do with money and documents. it’s something about his house. he doesn’t give me much details and i don’t want to invade him. he made me swear to him that he will tell me, he asked me to trust. and i like trusting. it has this ethereal, ephemeral taste; i know it could all disappear. but i just go along until it does. 

i woke up singing some random melody. then i thought it wasn’t really random because they were specific notes, so i played them in the piano. i spent the whole morning playing them and perfectioning them. they sounded like clear water, so i named this song Clear. it’s the first song i can call my song. all other stuff are just fruitless attempts and shouted poems. 

it goes something like

 

 

like i wanna dissappear

**Author's Note:**

> self indulgent, ongoing  
> i keep this as somehow a diary to throw up what im dealing with


End file.
